Hearing Reggie's explanation, Seo-jun felt something ignite inside him.
The rivals who had long waited for a chance to embrace the Sebastian Hanwick clan—only to drain it dry—must have already smelled weakness.
Even something as ordinary as carriage wheels carried brutal taxes. So what about diamond mines? What about the Sebastian Hanwick jewelry houses that had been trusted by the Crown since the kingdom's founding?
Wealth that vast would inevitably attract flies.
And among them, some would carry disease—ready to infect and destroy from within.
Unfortunately, this wasn't about food and insects.
It was about business.
And power.
"Fine," Seo-jun said flatly. "Let's hope everything goes smoothly. No cheap theatrics to ruin my day."
The next morning, the day of the meeting arrived.
Reggie had ordered the maids to prepare hot water before dawn. By the time Adrian woke, everything was ready.
Accustomed to bathing in the cool spring of the cave where he used to retreat, Seo-jun barely used the hot water. He intentionally left most of it untouched so the servants could use the rest.
The maids' faces lit up with quiet joy. It had been a long time since they had access to clean, abundant hot water like this.
Some helped him dress, while others carried buckets toward the servants' bathhouse.
Adrian possessed a naturally handsome face and a muscular build shaped by years of horseback riding—despite his former fondness for beer. His skin was pale and smooth, making him easy to groom.
Even wearing only trousers and a thin shirt, his presence was striking. His handsomeness leaned toward the gentle side, yet remained undeniably captivating.
Once dressed in formal attire designed to emphasize both authority and wealth, Adrian Hanwick looked breathtaking.
The display of luxury was deliberate.
If he appeared modest or understated, the royal ministers might underestimate the Sebastian Hanwick name—and question his capability.
And if that happened, they would not hesitate to seize the business under the guise of state control, draining it dry without regard for the livelihoods tied to it.
That was why Edmund had always instructed Reggie: whoever replaced him must look powerful and affluent. Excess was acceptable.
Being looked down upon was not.
Just as he finished preparing, Margaret entered Adrian's room.
She froze for a moment, staring at her son. The exhaustion and stress etched across her face seemed to soften.
"My darling… my little baby," she murmured. "I never imagined you would grow into someone like this. Taking on such responsibility to keep this family standing. Thank you, my son."
She embraced him tightly.
The warmth of a mother's hug pulled Seo-jun back to memories of his own mother in his previous life—the woman who had lost her only child because of something so foolish. Crossing the street without looking.
"Have you had breakfast, Mother?" he asked gently.
Margaret smiled, brushing his cheek.
"I have, my little baby."
She sighed, her expression turning slightly awkward, as though weighed down by unspoken worries.
"I hope they don't treat you poorly. Be firm with those insufferable old men. Don't be afraid—but don't go too far and wound their pride either."
Seo-jun nodded and kissed her forehead.
"Yes, Mother. I hope your prayers stay with me."
That simple sentence brought tears to Margaret's eyes once more.
When he reached the main entrance, Rowan hurried toward him and whispered urgently,
"Brother… Alaric ran into Valerie earlier. They spoke privately for a bit… though it ended with Alaric splashing holy water on her and walking away."
The morning had barely begun.
And already, trouble was circling.
Seo-jun pulled Rowan a few steps away, his expression tightening.
"But… did he recognize her? Valerie—does she still have pink hair? Her face… If the Archbishop finds out and drags her away, we're finished. She's the key to our future success," Seo-jun said in a low, controlled voice.
"I don't know either, Brother," Rowan replied. "I only watched from a distance. I haven't spoken to Valerie yet to confirm anything. I'll handle it. Just get in the carriage."
He nudged Seo-jun toward the waiting coach.
Inside the carriage, Seo-jun's nerves refused to settle.
What if everything he planned failed?
If he were executed in this world—just like the history book had written—would he return to his original one?
The thought gnawed at him so relentlessly that he didn't realize the journey had ended until the young coachman opened the door.
"We've arrived at the royal palace, sir."
Seo-jun exhaled slowly, trying to ease the pressure building behind his temples.
The moment he stepped down, a man in military uniform was already waiting.
General Roland Blackmoor, Commander of the Kingdom's Armed Forces—personally instructed by King Reginald IV Aurelion to escort him to the palace conference chamber.
Roland appeared remarkably cordial. He took the initiative to make conversation, though most of Adrian's responses were limited to polite nods and faint chuckles.
But the falseness was unmistakable.
Seo-jun caught it—a fleeting shift in Roland's expression between smiles. A grin too precise to be sincere.
He was well aware that the royal court was infamous for the masks its members wore when dealing with outsiders.
So Seo-jun played along.
He followed the rhythm of the conversation carefully, revealing nothing. He would not hand them a weapon forged from his own words.
When they reached the conference chamber, Roland entered first.
A few seconds later, Adrian Hanwick followed.
The reception was warm.
Too warm.
Excessive smiles. Overly friendly greetings.
And that was precisely what made Seo-jun uneasy.
All the key figures were present. The meeting began.
The first topic: taxes.
From levies imposed on the lower classes, the discussion gradually climbed toward noble taxation. It didn't take long for Seo-jun to grasp one undeniable truth—
This kingdom was hungry.
Hungry for wealth.
"Well then," came a smooth voice from across the table, "are you already feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility of serving as acting head of your family, Lord Adrian?"
The question came from Lord Percival Hawthorne, the kingdom's Prime Minister.
And it was not asked out of concern.